Having stable mind to do what is right,
Let my vessel then race where God's will plies,
And on the shore God hath assigned me, stop,
If mankind's sailing be not without port.

What's earth but error? travails? vanities?
Peace, a mere name; so too Contentment
The spirit sees yet, craving more, knows not,
As if to its own servant 'twere bound.

Sweet fame, power, delights, gold aplenty,
Once, stern Zeno, thy supposed steely virtue,
But frail dams to the blind godess' torrent!
And should habit she change, death tarries not.

So what talk of peace where a storm's incessant?
My will's resolve then (unfit to guide itself)
Eager sails to thy glory doth unfurl, O Lord;
Lead me, steer alone, so intact I'd end my course.

Translated by Richard Sokoloski